


Lipstick

by cellard00rs



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Incest, M/M, Makeup, Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford lets Mabel give him a makeover - Stan is really into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lipstick

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [stan-o-wars](http://stan-o-wars.tumblr.com/). Based on the artwork [here](http://stan-o-wars.tumblr.com/post/125249368877/cellard00rs-stan-o-wars-i-see-plenty-of) and [here](http://stan-o-wars.tumblr.com/post/125310466037/so-i-already-freaked-out-about-your-adorable)

Ford had promised Stan he would stay away from the kids.

Unfortunately, this proves to be easier said than done. Especially when it comes to Mabel. Ford initially thought Dipper would be a problem, but it’s actually Mabel who draws him out of hiding. It all starts when Ford finds Mabel sitting outside late one night on the porch. She’s resting her face in her hands and is looking disconsolately into the woods. When he sees her he knows he should just turn and leave but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Instead he clears his throat to let her know of his arrival and she turns, looking at him with wide, wet eyes, “Who-? Oh…hey, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford’s lips twitch, “‘Grunkle’?”

Mabel gives a tiny nod, “Great Uncle – Grunkle.”

“Ah, I see,” Ford says softly and he waves at the spot next to her, “May I?”

Mabel nods again and Ford sits next to her. They sit there in silence for a long while before Ford speaks again, “I know I haven’t known you long, but may I please ask you a question?”

He waits for her nod before continuing, “You seem sad. May I ask why?”

She sniffs, “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?”

“I try.”

Mabel breathes in loudly, “It’s just…my friends were supposed to come over for a slumber party tomorrow but they both cancelled at the last minute.”

“Oh?”

She nods, “It’s not their fault. Candy got sick and Grenda’s parents ended up having to go out of town on some business thing and they didn’t want to leave her here, so…”

“I understand.”

Mabel shifts where she sits, one foot kicking out at the dirt on the ground, “I just…I look forward to spending time with them. It’s the only time I get to do any girl stuff. I mean, Wendy works here but she’s not, y’know, really girly. So that just leaves me with Grunkle Stan, Soos, and Dipper and none of them want to do that stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Like, girl things. Doing each other’s hair and make-up and trying on clothes. Talking about boys and painting each other’s nails and things like that.”

Ford mulls this over and looking at her sad, dejected little face he knows there is only one solution, “Well, I suppose…I could do those things with you.”

Mabel loudly sucks in a breath and looks at him with wide, hopeful eyes. She starts shaking her fists in excitement, tone filled with joy, “Ooooh! Really?!”

Her happiness is contagious and Ford can’t help but grin, “Sure. I don’t see-”

The rest of the sentence was going to be ‘the harm in it’, but his words are cut off as Mabel throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight. Now he truly does see the harm in it, but unable to hurt her, he resigns himself He doesn’t want to break his word to Stan, but weighing the two against one another, he finds he’s more inclined to do that than to hurt Mabel.

This is how he ends up finding himself sitting at the kitchen table, one of his thick reference books laid out before him to flip through while one of his hands rests cradled in Mabel’s lap. She carefully paints his nails and is very serious about her task, her tongue sticking out as she works with laser like focus. He looks over at her and can’t help but feel warmth blossom up inside him. The realization that he had a niece and nephew was one of the only good things that has happened to him since his return.

Especially when both children are so bright and weird and wonderful. Mabel looks up from her handy work and frowns a little, “I don’t know…I don’t think this pink is working for you.”

Ford looks at his left hand, all six nails a bright pink and nods, “I agree. Maybe orange?”

“Ick! No! Orange is SO last season.”

“Yellow?”

Mabel rubs at her chin, “Mmm; I like the idea. Thinking outside the box, but…I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Green?”

“Be serious, Grunkle Ford.”

“I am! What’s wrong with green? Oh, or maybe red – like my sweater.”

“No, no, no! That’s too on the nose,” she pulls out a bunch of her nail polish bottles and picks up each one, inspecting it. She comes across a very glittery purple and shakes it at him, “I think we’ve got a winner!”

She carefully uses nail polish remover to clean off the nails she started on and she goes at it again, using the purple this time. After she gets the first nail done she looks at him for approval, “What do you think?”

He looks away from the book and back at his hand, “I like it!”

“Yeah? Me too!”

Mabel works happily on his left hand and once it’s complete she moves on to the right. Ford’s eyes scan the page in front of him and he marvels over what he’s reading. So many advances in science while he was gone…all of it fascinating and he’s feeling pretty good, especially when Mabel speaks up to say, “Purple is so gorgeous on you, Grunkle Ford!”

He can tell she’s almost done and he finds he doesn’t really want her to leave. Well, he had offered to do more girly things with her than just this, hadn’t he? He tries to recall the other things she said she and her friends did and, remembering one, he asks, “Would you like to do my hair after?”

“Really?” Mabel breathes and he can tell she’s on cloud nine. Maybe she hadn’t thought he’d really go through on his offer, but he finds he’s having more fun now than he’s had in…well, he honestly can’t remember when. So he nods and gives her a quiet, “Mhm.”

She squeals and leaves the room, returning a few moments later with a variety of headbands and barrettes. He continues to look at his research, but he answers her whenever she has a question or whenever he feels like he should make a comment. She tells him about the various boys she likes and bands she listens to and he gives her permission to play her Sev’ral Times CDs. She shows him a magazine of the band and tells him each of their names and a little about their personalities.

Once she seems satisfied with his hair, he rubs at his face, “Make up next?”

The girl looks close to exploding, “You’re joking?!”

He shrugs, “What’s a makeover without make up?”

“I’ll get my eyeshadows!

 

+

Stan looks at the paperwork on his desk and sighs. They had a good day yesterday. The Mystery Shack actually turned a pretty decent profit. Still, Ford’s ultimatum hovers over his head and he’s not sure if he should bother putting in an order for more of the knick-knacks they sell if he’ s supposed to close up shop at the end of the summer.

He pulls away from his work and rubs at his eyes. It’s oddly silent in the house. But then Dipper’s gone out for the night with Soos and is going to be staying at his place and Mabel…what was Mabel getting up to? He seems to recall her having plans with her friends, but he hasn’t heard girlish shrieking nor the excessive poundings of Grenda’s fists. That girl really knows how to make sound.

Still, finding that he’s a little hungry, Stan decides to get himself a bite to eat before checking in on them. He goes into the kitchen only to find his brother is sitting there. He can’t see him very well because he has a big theoretical physics book in front of him and he rolls his eyes.

Great.

Wasn’t Ford supposed to stick to the basement? Stan wonders if he can just sneak by him. He doesn’t feel like a fight and normally if Ford’s face is buried in a book he’s oblivious to everything around him. He sneaks over to the fridge and grabs the milk. He makes himself a bowl of cereal and debates sitting at the table to eat it when he notices Ford has something on his head. Is that…a bow? A flower?

And then he notices his nails. Ford’s nails are painted. And not just painted. They’re a bright, sparkly purple. Stan narrows his eyes at him in confusion when suddenly Mabel comes in, carrying her make up case and saying in a sing song voice, “I’m baa-aack!”

Ford blinks and lowers his book. He looks at Stan who looks right back, both of them wide eyed in shock. They say each other’s names at the same time and Mabel merely beams, “Jinx!”

Ford, the first to recover, says the first thing that comes to his mind, “That’s wasn’t a jinx. We didn’t say the exact same thing.”

“Psh, close enough,” Mabel giggles and she sits back next to Ford, “Hey, Grunkle Stan! What do you think? Doesn’t Grunkle Ford look fabulous?”

Stan doesn’t even know how to respond to that. His mouth flaps uselessly for a little bit before he manages, “What is this?”

“It’s a makeover, Grunkle Stan! I told you Candy and Grenda couldn’t come over tonight, remember? And Grunkle Ford was gracious enough to allow me to do girly things with him instead!”

Stan does seem to recall Mabel saying something to him in the gift shop, but he had been a bit distracted at the time. He’d been trying to talk some yahoo into buying merchandise when she'd come over and said…something. Maybe it'd been about the girls? Regardless; he certainly doesn’t remember her saying anything about dressing his brother up.

His twin looks at him, crystal calm as he asks, “So?”

“So what?”

“So what do you think?”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan, how’d I do?”

Stan struggles with how to answer, when suddenly Mabel starts waving her arms, “Oh no! Waaaaait a minute! I just had a GREAT idea! We can do a Fashion Show!”

Stan definitely does not think this is a great idea. And he wants to protest, but Mabel just keeps right on going, looking at Ford with enthusiasm, “I can do your make up and we can find you a cute outfit! There’s a bunch of old clothes upstairs in the attic! What do you say?”

Ford’s expression started off as less than thrilled, but as Mabel spoke Stan watches as his face just…melts. And he understands it. He truly does. There’s something about Mabel that’s just hard to resist. And she’s looking at him with such admiration…

Stan tries to stave off his jealousy and is doing a pretty poor job of it, especially when Ford says softly, “I say - I’d love to, sweetie.”

Mabel lets out a sound of joy that only dogs can hear as she throws her arms around his neck in a hug. For a moment Ford stiffens but eventually he relaxes and gently pats her back. She lets go of her death hold on him to look at Stan, eyes big happy saucers, “Grunkle Stan?”

“What-what _exactly_ do you want me to do?”

“Well, Ford is the model; I’m the designer and make-up artist, so that would make you the audience. Just sit in the living room and wait for us!” Mabel grabs Ford’s hand and drags him off.

Stan opens his mouth to protest but then closes it, thinking about what Ford said. How he’d been so casual. Well, two could play at this game. There's no way he's losing his spot as Mabel’s favorite Grunkle!

 

+

Mabel holds up an antique looking dress, “What about this one?”

Ford eyes it apprehensively, “Looks a little out dated.”

“Out dated or vintage?”

“Is…there a difference?”

“Oh, Grunkle Ford! You have so much to learn!” Mabel giggles as she tosses it aside, “But I agree, I don’t think it fits your body type.”

She rifles through more of the clothing and Ford wonders how it all got here. Stan probably got a lot of them for his ‘oddities’ in the Shack. Ford has perused the attractions and has to say he finds it all very insulting. There are real supernatural and paranormal phenomena out there and here's his brother suckering people into thinking something as silly as a Werepanda exists.

Thinking of his brother makes him grimace. He doesn’t really want to parade in front of his sibling in women’s clothing, but he’ll be damned if he upsets Mabel. Besides, the look on Stan’s face should be pretty priceless. After all, Ford's always been comfortable with his sexuality – from what he remembers of his brother, Stan – not so much.

So when he sees some lacy mid-thigh length black stockings he snatches them and the matching garter belt with the little bows up and turns to Mabel, all innocence, “What about these?”

Mabel’s face lights up, “Oh! These would look great under a flowy skirt! I think I saw one!”

Mabel digs out a flowing red skirt and she holds it up, “This is great! You’ll look like a chic Velma from Scooby Doo! Now to find you a better jacket!”

She manages to find a jacket not too different from the one he usually wears – it’s still khaki but it’s cut shorter and he goes to tug it on, but she shakes her head, “No, no! Go ahead and go change! Then when you get back, we’ll do your make up and do our first walk down the runway!”

Ford looks at the stockings again and smirks. His first walk down the runway will probably be his last. Once Stan sees him in this get up he’s sure his brother will head for the hills. And Ford will win…well; he doesn’t know what he’ll win exactly. Maybe just the satisfaction of getting one over on his twin? That was always a great prize back in the day. He changes quickly and then let’s Mabel get to work on his eye shadow, mascara and lipstick, all the while smiling to himself as he images Stan’s possible reactions.

 

+

Mabel takes a couple of quick pictures with her camera before cupping her face in her hands, pushing up her cheeks in admiration, “Oh my gosh! You look so AMAZING!”

“Thanks, Mabel. I think I look nice as well,” Ford chuckles and he has to admit he feels…good. And he knows he’ll feel better when Stan sees him. There’s just no way it’s not going to be perfect. He twirls around a little in the skirt, feeling it brush his legs. He knows he’s got some pretty fantastic legs  and it’s not even just because of the stockings. Running around the other dimension as much as he did, there was no way he wasn’t going to be in great shape.

Just another thing to rub in Stan’s face – after all, it’s not like his brother's stayed in peak condition. Ford is practically whistling as he goes down the stairs. He makes sure his clip-on earrings are still in place as Mabel jumps into the living room to introduce him. She’s brought out the boom box and she starts playing Sev’ral Timez hit ‘Lipstick Girl’ as she shouts, “Good evening, Mystery Shack! Welcome to the First Annual Mabel Pines Fashion Show! Let’s get started with our first model, Stanford Pines!”

Ford walks out, supremely confident and he feels like he’s hit a home run when Stan, who's doing his best to appear nonchalant by drinking a Pitt Cola, spits it out in a spraying burst. Ford grins and takes it in stride, walking past with a haughty air as Mabel continues, “Oh ho, that’s right, audience! Stanford Pines is looking particularly stylish in a well cut blazer jacket, red tulle skirt and-”

Loud knocking at the front door interrupts Mabel and she scowls, clicking off the music, “What the heck!”

She rushes to the door and is surprised to see Grenda there, “Hey Mabel!”

“Grenda? What are you doing here?”

“My parents asked if I wanted to bring someone with me and I asked if I could bring you! I tried to call, but I broke my phone! AGAIN!” Grenda holds up a crushed cell phone and her grip on it explains quite clearly how it was broken in the first place, “So? Can you come?”

Mabel turns back to her Grunkles with a frown, “Oh, well, uh…”

Ford walks over and Grenda looks dazzled, “WOW! HUBBADY DUBBADY! Your Grunkle sure got PRETTY.”

“Oh, uh, Grenda. This is…”

“It’s me, Stan,” Ford says loudly with no little amount of relish, “That’s right, Stan Pines! Mr. Mystery!”

“You’re looking good, Mr. Pines!”

“Why thank you, dear! You make sure to tell _everyone_ about how good I look, won’t you? Now, Mabel – would you excuse me for a moment? I’m going to go, ah, check a few things before I can decide whether or not you can go with your friend here.”

Ford goes over to Stan who is seething, “You told her you were me?”

“Better than the truth, right?” Ford laughs, “So, can Mabel go with her?”

Stan gives a curt nod and Ford goes right back to the girls, “Well, I’ve thought about it and Mabel, I think it’s okay for you to go with your friend.”

“But what about our fashion show?”

“We can pick it up some other time. After all, remember what you said? This is only the FIRST Mabel Pines Fashion Show.”

Mabel lets out another cry of happiness and hugs Ford before gesturing to Grenda, “You go wait with your folks! It’ll only take me a second to pack!”

 

+

There’s a quick flurry of activity and before Stan knows it, Mabel is gone and he’s left alone in the Shack with his brother. His brother who is wearing a skirt, earrings, lipstick and stockings. Jesus, _the stockings_. They’re sheer black with lines up the back and they cling to his twin’s legs like a second skin. And he can see up under the skirt just enough to know that they’re mid-thigh – held in place by garter belts and who could honestly blame him for the spit take after that?

He heads back to his office, sure that all this madness is over now and that Ford will return back to the lab. However, he’s proven wrong as his twin follows him, all big smiles, “Well?”

Stan huffs, “Well what?”

Ford holds his arms open, “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot,” Stan grumbles as he sits at his desk. Ford rolls his eyes, “Aw, come on, Stanley. You spit your drink all over the place! You can admit it, I look stunning!”

“You look like a nerd in a skirt.”

“A HOT nerd in a skirt.”

“Is there any reason you’re still here?” Stan mutters as he tries to distract himself with the papers on his desk. Ford perches himself up on one edge like he’s some sort of 1950’s secretary, “I want to talk to you.”

“About?”

Ford licks his lips, bites the bottom one and Stan feels like he’s going to pass out. _Lipstick_. Why did he have to put on _lipstick_? It’s red and glossy and distracting. It should be stupid. Dumb. Ridiculous. Instead it seems to just highlight his brother’s mouth, the perfect shape of it. He’s never really noticed before, but his brother has…really plush lips. Especially the bottom one…it looks very biteable and Stan looks back at the papers – the safe, safe, _safe_ papers.

Ford is all serious now, “It’s about the children. I know you asked me to stay away from them, but-”

“No,” Stan slams his hands on the desk loudly, “You can’t go near them.”

“Stanley,” Ford pleads as Stan gets up and walks around the desk, intending on leaving the office, wanting to get away from his brother only to hear, “They’re my family. I want to get to know them.”

“THEY’RE your family?!” Stan bellows, “What about me? I’M your family, Stanford! And what have you done since getting back besides treating me like garbage!”

“It’s not as easy with you and me,” Ford argues, arms crossed, “You know that. But the kids…there’s a blank slate there.”

“Oh, so what? You want to get to know them now? Get them to love you, so you can turn them against me? Or do you just want to hurt them like you did me?”

“Stanley, you’re being ridiculous!”

“Am I?” Stan goes back to his desk and holds up a bunch of papers, “Look at this, Stanford! Bills, mortgage payments – all the things I’ve done while you were off in your sci-fi space dimension! I kept this place afloat and what's the thanks I get? A brother who won’t thank me and a boot out the door!”

Ford frowns, “A boot out the-? Stan, I _never_ said I was kicking you out!”

“Bullshit!”

“Language!”

“Oh, screw that! The kids aren’t here! No one’s here but you and me buddy and you told me that you were kicking me out at the end of the summer!”

“No,” Ford returns hotly, “If you’ll recall, I said I wanted my house back, my name back, and the Mystery Shack closed. I did NOT say I want my house, my name, the Shack closed _and_ you out on the street.”

“Don’t split hairs! Closing the Shack is the same equivalent! I don’t have much else going for me, Stanford,” He eyes his brother with a scowl, “But hey – maybe I’ll just toss on that get up you have on and go out to some street corner, y'know? Make some cash that way.”

Ford rubs at his arms, “I’ll have you know I look very nice.”

Stan scowls, “Oh yeah, you look just lovely. Like a nice little whore.”

Ford decks his brother, but Stan just comes back, taking up both of Ford’s wrists in a harsh grip, “Not just a whore, but a whore who can’t throw a punch worth a damn!”

“Fuck you!” Ford spits and Stan’s lips curl up, “Language.”

“Let me go!”

“No.”

“Stanley…” Ford struggles, but somehow Stan finds that just eggs him on. His brother is just sitting there, that damn red fluffy skirt bunching up between them. Rising just enough to reveal the tops of his bare legs, right where the stockings end and Stan looks at that, looks into Ford’s face and Ford’s eyelashes are long and sooty black. His eyes flashing angrily, swipes of iridescent purple eye shadow on his lids, pink blush on his cheeks and that goddamn red, red lipstick.

Stan lets out a groan and catches his brother’s mouth with his own. Ford stiffens for a moment, his struggles ceasing in an instant as Stan releases his hold on Ford’s wrists, fingers threading into his brother’s thick hair, knocking the ribbon headband off his head. He angles his head, pushing his tongue deep into Ford’s startled mouth.

Ford lets out a choked noise as Stan kisses him with a deep, single-mindedness that leaves him stunned. And one of Stan’s hands has left his hair and it’s…it’s creeping up his leg. Stan pulls away, his breath hot against Ford’s face as he mutters, “Good. Finally found a way to shut you up.”

Ford swallows thickly, “Stanley…”

Stan looks at Ford’s mouth. His red lipstick is terribly smeared and Stan thinks about how it’s probably all over his own face now. A heated shaft of lust pulses through him at the thought and he rubs at Ford’s knee, voice husky, “Gonna lick all that lipstick off your mouth, Ford.”

His brother’s eyes grow unfocused at that, pupils dilating and Stan sees it, recognizes that look even if he’s never seen it on his brother’s face, “You want this.”

Ford wordlessly shakes his head and Stan only responds with a wispy laugh, “Yeah, you do. You want me, don’t you?”

“No.” Ford breathes.

“Oh really? You don’t want my hand to go up this pretty little skirt of yours and find out what’s beneath?”

Ford manages another tight shake of his head.

“So…I should stop then?” Stan asks, still rubbing at his brother’s knee, their eyes locked, “You want me to stop this hand from going where it’s going?”

“Wh-where _is_ it going?”

“Thought you were the smart one?”

“Stan…”

“Well, let’s see…” Stan’s hand rises up higher and he feels…holy shit. He stops and his eyes widen. He looks at Ford who is dark crimson as he mumbles, “It-it went with everything else.”

That’s when Stan knows that what he’s feeling under his hot palm is real. Panties. Lacy, soft, women’s panties. There’s a little bow on the elastic band and Stan groans, his heart thudding in his chest. Ford is wearing _panties_. Of all things…why would he even-? But then he said why, didn't he? That’s Ford, after all. Ever practical. It doesn't matter if thought no one would see them – the panties are part of the set and he is nothing if not obsessed with accuracy.

Stan runs his palm up and down the length of the panties and Ford’s head falls back on a deep, full body moan. Stan can feel the length of his brother’s erection, the width of it, and he curses at the moist heat it radiates. He feels his own cock throb in sympathy.

Stan starts kissing him again, doing as he promised, his tongue heavily focused on swiping all over Ford’s lips. But even as he does this, his hand keeps moving and Ford starts letting out desperate whimpers between kisses, his hips starting to move up with an uncoordinated rhythm into the contact. Stan pushes Ford up further on the desk, pens and pencils and papers spilling on to the floor.

He takes his brother’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on it before trailing his mouth wetly down his neck, growling, “Look at you…you really _are_ a whore for this, aren’t you?”

Ford tries to say Stan’s name again ,but it merely comes out as a needy whine. Stan slowly descends down to his knees between his brother’s legs. He tugs him towards the edge of the desk, tossing his red skirt up higher as he loops his brother’s kneecaps over either broad shoulder. His hot breath brushes against the most aching part of him, “Remember - kids aren’t here. So, it’s okay not to hold back.”

Stan sucks hot, hungry little kisses onto either side of Ford's inner thighs, licking and biting, teeth ripping at the nylon material of the stockings, “It’s okay to be a good, _loud_ little slut.”

“I’m-I’m-n-n- _not-ahh_!” Ford cries out as Stan buries his mouth against his crotch, rubbing ruthlessly against his straining sack. He hear a sound, like something being shredded and he knows the clothing he’s wearing is old, but he had no idea it would fall apart so easily and that’s what’s happening – Stan is literally ripping the panties apart, tearing them away and Ford feels like he’s going to pass out. His heart is in his throat as Stan finally takes his whole length into his mouth.

“ _Stanley_!” Ford cries out, hands clawing useless at the desk as Stan takes him deep. He licks and teases the slit of the head, tongue dancing along his shaft and Ford bites at his knuckles, panting and trying not to face fuck his brother because, oh yes, hello – _brother_. But Stan’s head is just bobbing so smoothly up and down and Ford can’t help himself, his hips jutting steadily upwards, the movement more force each time. Stan’s hands grab his ass, push him upwards, encouraging him to just move and Ford cries out as he losses all control.

He claws at Stan’s shoulders, purple nails digging in as he feels himself unraveling, exploding with a sharp moan. He feels like he’ll never stop coming and his face feels like it’s on fire, his whole body pulsing with his release. And then Stan is drawing away, huffing and puffing and he flips Ford over and Ford can hear his heavy breathing, can hear him fighting with his clothing. He sees a hand dart out in front of him, sees it rip into one of the desk drawers and unidentifiable objects go flying everywhere. But whatever Stan's hunting for, he seems to find, and Ford is starkly aware that his bare ass is up and waiting.

He hears a cap popping open behind him and then a wet hand brushes along his spine, over his backside and down between his ass cheeks, rubbing and pushing. Ford presses his face against the wood of the desk, moaning as a lubed finger eases into him. First one, then a second, and even though he’s already orgasmed, he can feel his dick stirring as he’s penetrated from behind. The fingers move in and out, over and over and he feels Stan’s hot breath ruffle his hair, “Christ, Sixer…you’re so fucking tight.”

“Loo-Loosen me up, then,” Ford pants and Stan’s motions slow, “What?”

Ford moves back against his fingers, “You were right, Stan. I do want this. I’ve always…” he shakes his head, “Need you, Stanley. Want you in me.”

Stan’s fingers start moving again and Ford gasps out a relived ‘yes’, his body moving back fluidly in response. He feels the fingers leave with some disappointment only to feel something big, hot and heavy against his entrance. Stan enters him carefully and Ford finds he really doesn’t want careful – he wants quick and hard and he knocks his forehead against the desk, “Come on, _come on_ , Stanley…hurry up.”

“Patience.”

“No,” Ford moans, but Stan just laughs, “That's always your problem, Poindexter. Always want to rush into things. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll fuck you. Nice and just the way you want.”

Ford’s throat feels tight at those words and he just closes his eyes shut, lets himself feel this, feel Stan deep inside him. Stan pulls out and then pumps back in, muttering a hushed, surprised ‘fuck’ beneath his breath before he pants out, “Been a long, long time…”

 _Good_ , Ford thinks with some perverse glee. He doesn’t like the idea of Stan doing this with someone else. If he’s honest with himself, he never has. While Stan’s movements start off slow, they soon pick up speed. It takes Ford a while to realize that the strung out cries of ecstasy he’s hearing are his own. The desk beneath them is creaking and jiggling roughly back and forth as Stan rams into him with rhythmic precision and Ford is positive he’s lost his mind, because it’s not possible for a man of his age to come again but he is, he is…

And then Stan is biting his shoulder and letting out a muffled, deep chested groan as he comes. Ford feels his whole body being flooded with the sticky wet heat of his brother’s release and he mewls, pleased. The two lay there in a collapsed, sweaty heap and Stan is the first to speak again, his voice a heavy croak, “Goddamn lipstick.”

“Mmm?” Ford manages, but Stan just waves one of his hands at him in response. Ford thinks of something and can’t help but laugh. Stan frowns, “What’s so funny?”

“Mabel…when I sent her off with her friend, I told her this was only her first fashion show. That there’d be others. But now I’m thinking I won’t be able to survive a second one if this is how they all end.”

Stan snorts in response and he lays there with his brother, sweaty and complete, thinking that he would be more than okay with a second round.


End file.
